


Fever

by Traxits



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Mild Language, Post-Canon, Romance, Sexual Tension, Wordcount: Over 10.000, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-08-31
Updated: 2011-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-11 09:17:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traxits/pseuds/Traxits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after Ultimecia's defeat, a civil war breaks out in Galbadia and monsters from the last lunar cry begin to overrun multiple cities.  And among all the chaos, Zell is sent to protect the singer of a new band.  Lucky him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Music Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theLiterator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLiterator/gifts).



Zell's feet were pressed against the wall of the train car, his back flat against the seat of the couch. His head, with its normally gravity-defying blond hair, lolled almost against the floor, and he held up a small screen in front of his face to read as the train moved. Magazines rustled a little over each jarring bump in the tracks, but Zell's blue eyes were narrowed in on the screen, struggling to read his mission briefing with each jerk. His feet tapped out some tune on the wall.

"Don't see why I couldn't borrow the Ragnarok for this," he muttered, well aware that he was talking to himself. "It isn't like Esthar _needed_ to have it back. I'd already be there!" A habit he'd picked up from traveling with Squall, he supposed. The stoic man was about the same amount of conversation as Zell had at that minute. "And who the hell hires SeeD to protect a band on tour anyway? More specifically, who hires SeeD to protect one member specifically over the others?"

Whoever it was, they had money, Zell knew that much. They had not only paid for his services, but had also left a bag full of some of the most bizarre clothes for him to wear. They were all designer logo from Deling. The tour had a dozen or so stops, and with the protest letters and threats that the band had already received, Zell was almost surprised that they had only sent him. Except―he frowned at the little screen, trying to concentrate through the noise and motion on the train―he wasn't actually a 'bodyguard' in the classic sense. He was to 'take command of the security team already in place,' to ensure the safety of the singer.

Muttering under his breath, he shifted just enough to wedge the little computer in one of his pockets. He was still upside down, his feet tapping more tunes on the wall. No one else was in the car―it had been that way since he'd left Balamb. He hadn't expected the trend to continue after he'd switched trains in Timber, but in a way, he was thankful. He could use the privacy after yet another failed instructor's license exam. Three times he'd taken it, and three times he'd failed it. He had two more chances to pass it before he was locked out.

He chewed on his bottom lip, staring up at the ceiling. "Should be studying, Dincht. You need to pass that test."

A halfhearted punch toward the ceiling, but he still didn't move. He wasn't looking forward to going out to Winhill of all places. No one in that town had liked him any more than the pacifists in Fisherman's Horizon had. At least he didn't have weaponry to display; that would earn him a few brownie points with the anti-soldier sentiment there. Besides, what sort of band started a tour in _Winhill_? It was out in the middle of no where, full of old people and chocobos.

Another bump, and a magazine finally fell off of the coffee table and smacked Zell in the face. He sighed, rolling his eyes toward the floor before he reached for it. Determined not to move from his spot, he held the magazine up over his face so that he could look at the cover. The singer he was supposed to protect, a shirtless cowboy, complete with the hat pulled all the way down over his face, was splashed over the cover, and for a moment, Zell felt something tight in his throat.

It wasn't Irvine. Irvine had vanished the moment Selphie had broken it off with him in favor of returning to Trabia Garden, and no one had heard a word from him since. Zell had discovered that he had an awful habit of assuming that anyone in a cowboy hat was Irvine, and only after four increasingly embarrassing moments of public humiliation―_oh, sorry. I mistook you for some Galbadian snip- I mean! I mean, a friend of mine―_had he finally managed to stop. Hell, Irvine was probably dead, with the waves of monsters escaping from the last lunar cry and the chaos across Galbadia. Civil war had broken out in many places; Deling's empire crumbling around the edges since the dictator was dead.

"_New Generation_," he muttered, scowling at the cover before he threw it across the train car. "War across Galbadia, and I'm sent to freaking babysit some band with a shitty name?" He covered his face behind his hand, sighing as the train slowed to a stop. "Well… here we go." He placed both hands on the floor, pushed off of the wall, and vaulted back up to his feet, landing near the door. He bounced for just a moment, rolling his head around to stretch his neck. "Time to rent a car."

The trip from the Desert Train Station to Winhill was long, and even worse, the car was just new enough to have a radio―finally working again after 20 years―that seemed to be exclusively chattering about _New Generation_'s first concert in Winhill. There were only two stations so far, and both of them shared the same over-the-top enthusiasm for _new_ music.

"_The line-up for the band is finally going to be announced. We will be broadcasting the concert __**live**__, where they will introduce everyone, including that hottie we've been seeing all over the magazine covers._"

Zell found himself wondering suddenly how many bands had actually produced music during the 'blackout' caused by Adel's tomb in orbit around the planet. It was hard to advertise for something that no one had heard before buying, and he knew that he, personally, had stuck to bands he knew when he was purchasing CDs.

"_This is the hottest show we've seen in years. Their manager has been surprisingly successful with this 'blind launch' that they're doing. I mean, we've seen so much of this singer that they keep talking about, and yet, not a single promo picture shows his face!_"

From the hype built up around this new group, Zell was thinking not too many bands had produced anything at all. With the sudden freedom from the media blackout though, both television and the radio had to be scrabbling for programming to fill the blank spot. Timber, he knew, had been incredibly transformed since it had the only working TV station still up.

"_Although, I have to ask, what's with their tour name? Road to Esthar? For those of you unfamiliar with the name, Esthar is the lost city that waged the Sorceress War with the great nation of Galbadia a little over twenty years ago. However, the city up and vanished, ending the war_―"

He parked the car outside of town at dusk. Winhill was not so big that one went driving newer, wider cars around the narrow streets. His eyes widened as he took note of just how many vehicles he parked by. Well over a dozen, probably closer to two that he could see. He shouldered his bag, jogged into town, and stared at the _changes_ with even wider eyes.

There were decorations and posters all over the tiny town, with even the older folk waving and asking if he was there for the concert. A wide grin from him, all innocence, and they directed him toward town square. He didn't have to tell them that he already knew where it was. Winhill wasn't big enough to get lost in. At least they didn't seem to recognize him, even with his distinctive appearance.

He slowed his pace once he reached the square, his brow furrowing for a moment as he looked up at the bar. _Raine Storm_. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry at the new sign proclaiming that name. He wasn't entirely certain that Squall would appreciate his mother's name on the bar she'd died in, but at the same time, it was just nice to see the place fixed back up. His eyes cut over to the house next door, and for a moment, a lump rose in his throat. Ellone's old house.

The bullet holes were gone, at least on the outside. It actually looked… lived in. He reached up to wipe his eyes before he pushed open the door to the bar, passing off a small wad of gil to the bouncer collecting the cover charge. It was dark inside, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust. The energy in the place was incredible, and even more shocking, the place was _packed_. In face, as Zell worked his way to the front of the group, dropping his bag to swing around his legs, he was genuinely stunned to see so many people in the place.

Then there was a noise, the clicking of something on the stage, and a girl squealed. The crowd surged, the motion sending Zell's stomach crashing into the front edge of the stage. He gritted his teeth as he glanced at the security forces, noticing that they couldn't keep the crowd back any further. No wonder the band's manager or patron or _whatever_ was so worried.

He looked up (and up and up, it felt like), only to be greeted by that same cowboy figure from the magazine, this time in a bright purple vest. Black boots, black jeans, and a black hat completed the outfit, and as soft yellow stage lights came on, he pushed up the hat in a single fluid motion. Blue eyes met blue, and Zell felt the air leave his lungs.

The cowboy crouched down on the edge of the stage, peering at him for a moment, and then he winked. "See you backstage later?" he asked, as softly as he could and still be heard. Another squeal escaped the girl nearby.

Zell's throat was dry as he stared back into Irvine Kinneas's face. "You can bet your ass you're gonna see me backstage," he shot back after he had just a moment to recover.

Irvine laughed, and then the music started. He stood back up, and Zell drew a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His heart was racing, and he felt relief crash over him. Perhaps the nightmares of Irvine, laying face down in a puddle of his own blood, gun surrounded by spent shells, would finally cease now that Zell knew he was alive and well.

"Hello, Winhill!" Irvine's fingers wrapped around the microphone on the stand in front of him. Cheering broke out over the room―packed to the _brim_ with people―and Irvine laughed. His eyes seemed overly bright, almost hazy. "How are we feeling tonight?"

Zell glanced over his shoulder as the cheering rose to a loud roar. The crowd was clearly enamored, and, a quick glance back at Irvine, their entertainer seemed to be riding the same high that they were. He couldn't stand still, and he paced across the stage, offering waves and suggestive grins to almost everyone.

"Good! Are we planning on _partying_ tonight?"

Another roar. Zell felt himself tensing at the sheer energy filling the small room. The doors opened and closed a few more times, letting in the latecomers. Zell immediately looked them over, biting his bottom lip.

"Of course we are! Because we," Irvine glanced beside him, where a young man on the bass stepped into view. The lights shifted from yellow to green, "are," a look to the other side and a light clicked onto both the keyboardist and the drummer, "a _New Generation_!" A loud chord punctuated the band's name. "And you! You will be joining us on our _Road to Esthar_!"

Zell spent the entire show on edge, scarcely sparing a glance toward the band itself in favor of examining the crowd they had drawn. Most of them were late teens, early twenties, and plenty of them who certainly didn't look old enough were holding alcoholic drinks. Zell frowned a little, but he didn't bother to even look over at the bartender. If his eyes left the crowd, it was only to glance up at Irvine on stage, who seemed determined to rub up against just about everything available.

Briefly, Zell wondered if it was simply Irvine's response to adrenaline―most of his kisses to Selphie had been heat-of-the-moment, pressed hurriedly to her when everyone was certain that they were going to die. Then a noise caught his attention, and he found himself struggling to get back toward the commotion. Clearly, the security team wasn't as incompetent as he had originally thought, because they did have the sense to get the obnoxious young man out of the bar. The mood lifted a little, and Zell drew a breath, wondering how the hell he was going to survive this mission. He had nine more of these shows to cover?

By the time it was all over, Zell's heart was pounding in his ears. He snagged his bag and headed into the back, brushing past security without a look. They grabbed for him once, but then his bag 'fell' open, his SeeD uniform glittering in the too-bright lights, and they quickly let him go, waving him through. It was too easy. He hadn't even had to flash an ID at them.

He still managed a warm smile to Irvine when he saw him, but then the cowboy was laughing and had _picked_ _him up_, hoisting Zell to sit on top of the nearest vanity. There was a clatter as a few make-up bottles fell onto the floor, and Zell flushed darkly at the casual manner Irvine treated him with. As though the sniper hadn't _vanished_ for three years. As though nothing had ever changed between them. Irvine leaned over him, trapping him neatly between those long arms, and his dark brown hair fell in a tangle over one shoulder. The brim of that black hat brushed over the top of Zell's hair.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he said quietly, leaning a hair too close for Zell's comfort. His eyes were a little hazy, and Zell swallowed, realizing that yes, _that_ reaction really was Irvine's way of handling the adrenaline shooting through him. "Of all the people who'd come to see me, I didn't think it'd be _you_."

Zell didn't think that he could breathe like that, with Irvine's face only inches from his own. He swallowed the lump in his throat and ducked under one of those arms, dropping off of the table. He didn't care that he was over half a foot shorter than Irvine, at least he was on his own feet that way. "Got hired," he offered by way of explanation, holding out the little folded sheet of paper. He wondered how much of the make-up had ended up on the seat of his jeans thanks to Irvine's little stunt.

Irvine's face darkened, but Zell pretended not to notice. Irvine was the one who had gone off without warning, not him. If anyone had a right to be angry, it was Zell, considering the number of evenings he'd been unable to sleep, wondering if Irvine was alive or not. He hated not knowing worse than anything else. He knew where everyone else was―Ellone in Esthar with Laguna, Kiros, and Ward; Seifer in Balamb with Fujin and Raijin; Squall in Timber with Rinoa; Selphie in Trabia Garden, helping to repair it; Quistis and Xu assisting in rebuilding Galbadia Garden; Edea and Cid both in Balamb Garden. Irvine had been the one unaccounted for member of their team.

Irvine scanned the paper, dropping his hat down on the table. Idly, he reached back and pulled the ponytail holder (which he pushed over his hand to his wrist) out of his hair, shaking it to fall down his back instead. It was curly at the ends, wild without the hat and band to keep it back. Zell shivered a little, deciding that he didn't need to be studying Irvine's hair. He turned his attention instead to the purple vest Irvine wore. … Were those sequins? And _glitter_?

"So it's work," Irvine said finally, lifting those blue eyes to meet Zell's. "You didn't come to see _me_. You came because someone paid you to."

Zell's eyes narrowed as he noticed the glitter on Irvine's face too. Part of the show get-up? "No, someone hired _Garden_. Garden decided to send me. The hiring party doesn't pay my salary. What's with the whole '_Road to Esthar_' thing?" He dragged his eyes away from the glitter and arched an eyebrow before he looked back at Irvine.

Irvine hesitated a moment, then shrugged. Just the slightest rise and fall of a narrow shoulder. "Poetic license," he replied. "Journey to an unknown place? I liked the sound of it. … Who hired Garden, Zell?"

Zell frowned again, his brow furrowing. "What difference does it make? And Esthar's not 'unknown'." He cast one quick look to ensure the door was shut before he murmured, "We've _both_ been there."

"Who? Who hired SeeD to come and babysit, Zell?" Something in Irvine's voice made Zell tense. It wasn't like Irvine to pointedly ignore a direct question like that. The laid back, easy-going cowboy was gone. In his place was someone who Zell hadn't seen before. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not.

"I don't know," he replied honestly. There was no reason not to. "No one told me."

A short bark of laughter escaped Irvine, but he relaxed a little, one hip resting against the edge of the table. "And you didn't ask." His eyes narrowed, but they were still glittering from the high he was clearly riding. Zell wondered if it was really _that_ good. "Come here." His voice was soft, pitched low and _just_ right. Zell shivered.

"I'm good." His own voice, by comparison, was clumsy, hesitant. "I mean, I'll just… Hang over here. By the door. Do my job!" He pasted the blandest smile on his face that he could manage.

Irvine pushed off of the table, closing the distance between them. "Do your job?" One hand on either side of Zell, and then he was trapped again, this time by the door. "You're good at that, aren't you? Following orders, like a good little soldier." Something raced down his back, but Zell's mouth was too dry to protest. "You really gonna stay the whole tour?" Irvine's lips were so close that when he spoke, Zell could feel his breath moving over his skin.

"Y-yeah," he whispered, his eyes darting nervously between those lips and Irvine's eyes. Was it wrong that he was standing there, half-hoping that Irvine would just _do _it, and stop teasing him so damn hard? "I _like_ my job, Kinneas," he needed to put some sort of space between them, but Zell couldn't move. "There is nothing wrong with being a SeeD. It's an honor." At least, if he went ahead and kissed him, Zell could shoot him down and that would be that. But instead, Irvine seemed perfectly content to linger, just out of reach.

"Always about honor with you." Irvine touched the side of Zell's face, one fingertip against the black tattoo. "You're going to," Irvine's eyes lowered briefly before they lifted back to Zell's face, "_take_ _charge_ of my security team, Dincht?" He rolled the words in his mouth, as though each one had a distinct flavor that he could taste. "Tell them what to do? Tell _me_ what to do?"

Unable to stand it a moment more, Zell shoved Irvine back. Irvine was larger than him, but Zell was both trained and physically stronger. He wasn't some wuss to be intimidated and pushed around. "Yeah," he shot back, his voice stronger this time. "I'm here to keep you safe, Irvine. That's what I am gonna do, whether you like it or not." He jabbed a finger at Irvine's shoulder to punctuate his words, and for just a moment, he thought Irvine might actually swing at him. The cowboy's jaw was clenched, and his hand kept tightening into a fist before relaxing.

Then the anger melted away, and Irvine laughed. The sound was so unexpected that Zell found himself glancing around, trying to locate what had set him off.

"Welcome to the _New Generation_ then, Zell," Irvine purred, pulling Zell to fit neatly under his shoulder. "Why don't we go meet the rest of the band?"


	2. Pick You Up

Irvine glanced out of the car―Zell's rental―toward their next ride. There, near the end of the train, two loudly painted cars proclaimed _NEW GENERATION _down the sides. There was a strikingly accurate picture of Esthar painted over both cars, and just under the band's name, there was a flowing script:_ On the Road to Esthar_. All in all, Irvine was pleased with the result.

"The artist did well, didn't she? Just had the one picture to work from and all." Irvine killed the engine and got out, his grin widening as he saw Zell sputtering, clearly trying to figure out _what_ picture Irvine had used. Esthar had reached a privacy agreement with SeeD, expecting them to keep the secret that the city was still standing. Fortunately, Irvine wasn't a SeeD.

He threw one arm over Zell's shoulders―carefully; moving quickly around a martial artist like Zell was never a good idea―and pulled Zell against him. He leaned down to murmur over Zell's ear, "What do you think?"

Zell dislodged him and stepped forward, turning around to look back at him. His brow furrowed as he studied Irvine, and for a minute, Irvine felt incredibly self-conscious, wearing the purple sequined vest and black leather.

"Wait," relief crossed Zell's face, "this is based on Laguna's picture from Timber Maniacs, isn't it?"

Irvine laughed, hooking his thumbs in the small pockets in his leather pants. "Yeah."

"Do you seriously stay in a train car?" Zell reached back in the car and pulled out his pack. He wrapped the strap around one hand, then unwrapped it and shouldered the bag. His knuckles were white. It dawned on Irvine in that moment that Zell had probably been expecting a bus. That _was_ the classic mode of transportation for bands, wasn't it?

Irvine leaned forward a little, studying Zell's expression, not caring that he was intruding in Zell's personal space. "Yeah. Most practical means of transportation. Why? Don't like trains, Zell?" He reached up and pulled himself on the car's ladder. He held out a hand to help Zell up, grinning as the blond pointedly ignored the offer and hoisted himself up on the steps. The car hadn't been stopped at the station platform―that honor was reserved for the passenger cars―so the steps hovered a few feet above the ground.

"It's not that!" Zell frowned at him, his fist clenching a little more. Irvine couldn't stop his grin from widening a touch more. He turned from the blond and scanned the small card he had in his pocket, opening the door to allow entry in the first _New Generation_ car.

"Well? What's up then?"

"It's a safety issue, Kinneas. It's a piece of cake to swap cars even when the train is in motion. You could be kidnapped like _that_," Zell snapped his fingers, sighing as he looked out the door toward the station platform. "Hell, a group of nobodies from Timber used three rookie SeeDs to kidnap President Deling―"

"Deling's body double, if I remember correctly." Irvine made certain his voice was pitched lowly, not wanting to seem argumentative. He rubbed Zell the wrong way on a good day; he certainly didn't want to provoke the blond beyond where Irvine was capable of handling him. "And I don't think Rinoa would appreciate being called a 'nobody.' She's a pretty big name in Deling City, you know." He glanced down the hallway, wondering for a moment where everyone was.

The faintest smile touched Zell's lips, and Irvine blew out a breath of relief. He had been beginning to wonder if Zell even remembered how to smile. At least the frowns weren't permanent, although Irvine knew he'd be seeing a lot of them. After all, he liked to get a rise out of Zell. "Well, it's your problem anyway, Zell. Not mine." Irvine clapped him on the back, careful to keep his motion slow enough that Zell could see it coming out of the corner of his eyes.

"It's _your_ problem if you get kidnapped. Who knows what some of those fans would do to you?" Zell muttered sullenly.

"Ooh, because getting kidnapped by a bunch of women who want my body would be _so _terrible." He arched an eyebrow, and even Zell laughed at that thought.

"Irvine _lives_ for getting kidnapped by a bunch of women who want his body. 'Bout time you got here. Did you get lost?" A young woman leaned in the doorway leading into the second car, a grin on her face. "Did you tell the conductor that you're here? Or should I send Jon up there to do it? Who is that?"

"Tomo, this is Zell Dincht. Someone hired _SeeD_ to protect me. How screwed up is that?" Irvine pulled Zell up to where Tomo could see him. She was about the same height as the blond, but her dyed-purple hair was loose in a shaggy cut around her face. She offered her hand, and Zell quickly rubbed his on the leg of his jeans before he shook it.

"Nice to meet you," he said softly, politely, but his eyes lingered just a little too long for Irvine's taste.

"Sorry, dear," Irvine interjected, pushing past Zell and Tomo toward the second car. He smiled at the girl. "If I'd known, I'd have requested a woman. Give you someone to flirt with."

Tomo laughed, winking at Zell. "Yeah, well. Make do with what I get, you know. 'Sides, he's cute enough."

Irvine glanced back just in time to see a blush lighting Zell's face. "Yeah, well, he's a know-it-all." Irvine arched an eyebrow, daring Zell to argue. "Gotta watch out for him. Oren, Jon!" He raised his voice so that they could hear him in the second car. "Who wants to go tell the conductor that we're all aboard?"

A pair of groans, and then a young man with black hair that swept his cheekbones stepped out, sighing. "I will." He shoved his glass into Irvine's hand, then stopped as he saw Zell. He pointed a finger, looking up at Irvine. "Who—?"

"Oren, meet Zell. Hired bodyguard."

"You hired a bodyguard?" A raised eyebrow held the _other_ question, and Irvine wrinkled his nose in response.

"Nah. Someone's idea of a tour gift. Jon back there?" He glanced down at the glass in his hand. "Is this my wine? You guys are drinking my wine?" He laughed though, because he'd been planning on opening it anyway. They all knew it too.

"Jon's idea." Oren held up his hands with a grin, and ducked down the hall. "I'm gonna go see the conductor, so yell at him."

Irvine turned back in the doorway to look at Jon. The last member of the band was sprawled out in one of the chairs in the second car, bottle of wine in one hand and a wine glass in the other. His long red hair was still braided and over his shoulder. "Cheers, man. It was great, yeah?" He winked and Irvine crossed into the car and held out the glass to be topped off. Jon patted his knee, and Irvine sank down on it, not even caring that he'd already told Jon nothing was going to happen between them.

"Yeah. It really was. How are the reviews so far?" Irvine sipped the glass, and Jon reached up to pull the hat off, tossing it to the side.

"Good, good. Both radio stations are going nuts." Jon grinned over the glass before he took a sip of his own, then he stilled as Zell came in the car. Tomo was right behind him, laughing at something the blond had said. Irvine leaned back enough to look at Zell.

"That's Zell, Jon. Someone decided I needed a bodyguard."

"So... he's staying the whole tour?" Jon's brow furrowed and Irvine sighed as he stood, sipping some more of the wine. He glanced down toward the bottle―half left―and wondered briefly how much of it he would need to feel normal again.

"Yeah. Got a problem with it?"

Irvine hid a smile as Zell bristled at the tone Jon had with him. Jon stood up, and Zell didn't even seem to notice that Jonathan was easily a foot taller than him. The little blond just folded his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. The metal plates over the backs of his gloves seemed particularly shiny in that moment.

"Okay, look, guys. I need some sleep. It's catching up to me. We've got a few hours until we arrive in Dollet, so... rest up, yeah?" He waved them out of the car, ignoring Jon's protests to the fact that Zell was staying in the second car. As a peace-offering, Irvine let Jon keep the bottle of wine, and even handed Oren's glass back. When he finally got the door latched, he sighed, glaring at Zell. Much to his annoyance, Zell didn't even seem to notice. Instead, he was examining the car, his bag still held loosely in one hand.

It was a huge car, made even bigger by the fact that it was only split into two rooms, the sitting area everyone had been in, and the private bedroom in the back. Zell's face paled a little as Irvine ducked into the back. Irvine kicked off his boots in the corner.

"Wait."

Irvine froze, looking back at him. Zell stood in the doorway, bag having dropped to the floor as he studied the inside of the car. "You stay in here? Alone? A private car, Irvine?"

"Mm hm." Irvine started peeling off the vest, draping it over a rack on the wall near his closet. He ignored the flash of warmth that came with hearing Zell say his first name. "Why? You wanting an invitation, Zell?" Irvine fished out the make-up remover and started rubbing off his 'work' face.

Zell flushed, but he didn't move. "You _idiot_. It's bad enough that the band is using a train car, but with you having a _private_ one―"

Irvine splashed some water from a bottle over his face, wiped it dry, and glanced back up at the blond. "That's your problem, Zell. Not mine. I am not sharing a bedroom with any more people than I have to. … Unless it's for something fun, but I don't think that's what you're getting at." Irvine pulled his pants off too, casting one quick glance up at Zell. The blond was bright red, his gaze averted to staring at the purple vest Irvine had already taken off. Irvine's grin widened just a touch. "Besides. You're here, and it's not like I'm exactly helpless." He swapped the ridiculously close-fitting underwear for a pair of bright blue boxers, and he waved just enough to catch Zell's attention.

"Well, no, but..." Zell trailed off, staring at the pattern on the shorts. Dinosaurs and airplanes.

Irvine fell back onto the bed, sighing as he motioned for Zell to sit beside him. Zell kicked off his shoes, hesitantly lowering himself on the bed. Much to Irvine's amusement, Zell folded up to sit cross-legged, holding his ankles. Irvine reached out and patted one of Zell's knees.

"No buts. Now, where are you gonna sleep?" Irvine looked up at Zell, and he laughed just a little as he realized that Zell's hair was beginning to sag just a little. Sweat was hell on gel.

Zell hesitated, looking around the room. There was exactly one bed―although it _was_ big―and only small chairs around the rest of the room. There _was_ a narrow couch in the sitting room, but Irvine didn't want to offer that; he didn't think Zell had noticed it. Instead, he counted it as a win as Zell's shoulders sagged just slightly.

"May I stay here, Irvine?"

He sounded like a child being prompted, and Irvine couldn't help but laugh before he nodded. "You may," he replied solemnly. "Here." He moved over and slid under the blankets, offering Zell the other half. After just a minute, he reached under what would be Zell's pillow, and pulled out a revolver. He shoved it into the nightstand on his half of the bed.

"Irvine? Are you really about to go to sleep?"

"Yeah. Got interviews before the show tomorrow. Look," Irvine sat up just long enough to fish out the folder with the song lyrics and scores from the drawer he'd dropped the gun into. "Review this. Might as well get familiar with our stuff." He rolled over then, not caring if Zell left the lights on or not. They had both been trained in Gardens. They could sleep through anything.

* * *

It was warm. Zell reached blindly for his pillow, pulling it a little closer to himself as he resettled. The heat behind him shifted and finally pressed back to him. He leaned into it, his eyes opening slowly. A hand was pushed up under his tank top, fingertips flat against the muscles over his stomach. For another moment, he lay there, trying to remember where exactly he was.

Sunlight glinted off of purple sequins, and Zell froze, something cold washing away the happy glow. He drew a deep breath and slid out of the bed. A quick glance back reassured him that he hadn't woken Irvine up. He shivered, rubbing a hand over his stomach for almost a full minute before he quickly dressed. SeeD uniform. He was tucking in his white undershirt, his jacket laid out over the back of the chair, when Irvine finally woke.

The sight actually made Zell stop, mid-motion as he watched Irvine stretch and sit up, red-brown hair spilling out over his shoulder before he shoved down over his back. "Morning," he said, quickly looking back to straightening his shirt. He pulled the jacket on over his shoulders. He zipped it up and tugged on the collar, swallowing thickly.

Irvine made a noise and fell back against the pillows, folding an arm over his face. "That time already?" His voice was low, and Zell snorted at the groggy tone.

"Yeah. Get dressed so that we can grab a coffee before your interview." He bounced for just a minute at the thought as he pulled out the little jar of gel for his hair.

"'S why you're short," Irvine muttered.

"What?" Zell stopped, two spikes up, and looked back at him. "Is not. I'm not short." He glanced in the mirror and finished his hair. Just as he did, Irvine wrapped an arm over his shoulders and pulled him back. Zell rolled his eyes. "You're just abnormally tall," he shot back, stepping out from under the arm as Irvine fell into the chair at the vanity.

By the time Irvine was finally done, Zell's stomach was growling. Irvine laughed at him, and they stepped off the train, both of them holding up one of their arms to block the morning sun shining in over the city. Tomo and Jon were waiting outside, each with a single ear-bud in, listening to a CD player sitting between them on the station bench.

"Good morning, Irvy. Zell." Tomo smiled warmly as she waved them over. She handed the ear-bud back to Jonathan, who pocketed it. She threw her arms around Zell, giggling a little. "You guys ready for breakfast? There's this cafe here," she wrapped one of her arms around Irvine, pulling him just as close, "they serve the _best_ crepes. Like, seriously crazy good."

Zell blushed a little, and when he felt Jonathan staring at him, he couldn't help but to return the favor. The redhead was _huge_, but he wasn't trained in brawling, no matter how much he bowed up. In fact, Zell would wager that he, like Tomo, wasn't trained for any sort of fighting. Unusual, but certainly not unheard of. Jon's attention moved to Irvine as the sniper started talking, laughing with Tomo―"Of course they do! They fill them with that hazelnut-chocolate spread and fresh bananas?"―and Zell's throat tightened.

Jon towered, even over Irvine, but the expression on his face when he _looked_ at Irvine... Zell shook himself a little. It didn't matter. Zell had a contract to fill, and Irvine had breakfast, then interviews. Zell wasn't looking forward to those. They ate quickly―there was _coffee_, much to Zell's delight; Irvine laughed at him over the cup of hot tea he had chosen―and Irvine ordered a second cup of tea just as the first reporter arrived.

"Irvine Kinneas?" She smiled warmly as she and Irvine shook hands.

Irvine motioned for her to sit, and Zell finished off his coffee. When the waitress came back with Irvine's tea, he ordered water. He shrugged at Irvine's questioning look.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, setting up the little recorder and taking out her notebook. "I'm Maggie Peterson. I cover the Galbadian Garden internal magazine."

"Yeah, the Bear Claw. I remember." Irvine smiled warmly, leaning forward in his seat. Long fingers wrapped around his cup, and Zell found himself drifting, only half listening to the questions until―

"Is it true then that you've assumed the Garden Master title in Galbadia Garden?" The young woman―Zell realized that she had to be a SeeD cadet, no older than seventeen or eighteen―smiled, looking expectantly up at Irvine. Zell wondered for a moment if she was joking. Garden Master required a _sickening_ amount of money. It was akin to _owning_ the Garden.

"Technically," Irvine answered slowly, running a fingertip over the rim of his paper cup, "the Garden Master position is held by Captain Gregori Kinneas, as _I_ am only nineteen." He offered a shy smile that Zell didn't think reached his eyes. "And a minor cannot move that kind of money without a guardian's signature, can they?"

She giggled a little behind her hand. "Well, no. Does that mean that on your twentieth birthday, you will be taking over the position for Captain Kinneas?"

"We'll just have to see, won't we?" Irvine laughed, and the talk turned back to the tour, much to Zell's disappointment. When she finally left, he leaned over, frowning at Irvine.

"You were adopted?"

Irvine quirked an eyebrow, raising his cup and blowing across the surface. He was stalling; the tea had to be the same temperature as the air around them by that point. "You didn't think I was?"

"You... You never said that you were, Irvine. What was I supposed to think? You said you went to Galbadia; I assumed you meant Garden."

Irvine shrugged, sipped his tea, and lowered the cup slowly. "I was adopted," he finally admitted softly; his eyes unfocused as he looked at the cup. "Just didn't work out the way it was supposed to."

"Irvine Kinneas?" The next reporter sank into the chair, a cameraman at her back recording away.

Zell exchanged a quick look with Irvine who nodded slightly. Relaxing in his chair marginally, Zell simply ordered the cameraman to stay a few feet back. Minimizing threats.

"I'm Christa Vales, from Timber Two News. How are you feeling after your first successful concert?"

Zell sighed, looking away until she asked about him. He waved a hand with a warm smile, simply saying that he was there to ensure Irvine's safety. Just a precaution. Then she was gone and another reporter took her place―Mr. Jamie Zhen from Timber Maniacs―and by the time the fifth one came by, Zell had felt compelled to lay his head down on the cafe table. Forcing himself to sit up, he decided that at least it was lovely outside, with the smell of the ocean so close, the salt in the air.

They headed back to the train to change after the reporters were all done, and Zell pulled on one of the first outfits from the bag that his hiring party had secured for him. A soft ballistic vest went under a dark blue shirt with black slacks, probably the most 'normal' of the clothes provided. Briefly, he spared a thought wondering if they had _requested _him, since everything in the bag fit, and then he wasn't thinking at all as he saw Irvine's second stage outfit.

Zell had only thought the first one was outrageous. Irvine was wearing the black cowboy hat again―rescued from the floor where Jon had thrown it the night before―but this time he had paired it with a long-sleeve, black- and white-striped shirt with a black vest and silver buttons. A huge belt wrapped around his narrow hips, not even necessary to hold up another pair of almost too-tight black pants.

His silver necklace was out for once, laying over the black and white top. Zell wondered at it for just a minute, then escorted Irvine back into town. The stage was simple, having been set up on the beach. Wreckage from the Galbadian assault was still all over the place, and Zell was surprised to see parts of the giant mechanical spider―the X-ATM092―actually in use in the set.

Oren was standing at the edge, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Zell narrowed his eyes as he studied the young man, realizing that he was the only one that Zell hadn't seen much of. Zell wondered if he was the one building their sets on location. Irvine waved to him, and Zell sighed, calling out to the security team in place.

He set up a proper perimeter this time, only allowing a small section of people actual contact with the edge of the stage. The sun sank down below the horizon and the crowd grew. Soon, Zell couldn't even see the back of it; people were spilling into the streets, the beach having long since reached maximum capacity.

This time, when Irvine made the introductions, Zell actually paid attention. Tomo on the keyboard, Oren on the drums, Jonathan on the bass, and Irvine, singing and playing the guitar. Zell smiled a little at that. Irvine paced the entire stage, alternating between staying at the microphone and jamming chords on the guitar so hard that Zell almost expected it to snap.

In fact, he was so enjoying actually seeing Irvine laughing and _into_ it that he almost didn't turn back to the crowd in time to see the gun.

Almost.

He would later admit that he didn't remember moving after he saw the gun. But Zell was a SeeD trained to get the job done _whatever_ the cost. When he saw the gun glint in the lights―blue and green and purple―from the stage, he immediately vaulted up to intercept. He couldn't reach the shooter, but he could move the target. He caught the first round in the chest. He lost his footing and fell back against Irvine. There was a loud crack as the guitar crumpled under Zell's weight, and for a minute, Zell laughed.

Another shot rang out before the security team reached the gunman. Zell realized in that moment that he need a real team; one that would travel with the band that he could train.


	3. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had a lot to juggle. It was kind of difficult, but I am overall rather pleased with the end-result. There might be a delay between this chapter and the next due to the fact that I have another fic due at the end of the month. I am shooting for a chapter a week, but this is a very loose schedule. Thank you so much for reading!

It was the laughter, not the gunshot, that stopped Irvine's heart. Zell had many strange quirks, but giggling in the middle of such a dangerous situation wasn't one of them. When he fell back against Irvine, the guitar cracking and snapping under the force of contact, it was everything Irvine could do to grab him and pull him close, ducking down as the second shot split the air. A sudden burn flared in Irvine's upper arm. There was a loud commotion as the crowd panicked, the security guards rushing in on the gunman, but Irvine wasn't focused on that.

Instead, he ripped open Zell's shirt, the lack of blood both a comfort and concern all at once. Buttons scattered across the stage, cascading back down to click against the wood. The rough fabric of the ballistic vest had _never_ felt so good under his fingertips, and he quickly pulled Zell closer to him, his eyes closing for a moment as he realized that the wind had simply been knocked out of the blond. His feet hadn't quite touched the stage yet when he caught the shot, and the force of the bullet had been more than he'd been prepared for.

"Irvine, you okay? Is that _your_ blood?" Jonathan dropped down to one knee beside him, and when Irvine realized that Jon was going to pick Zell up, he tightened his grip around his bodyguard.

"I'm okay. Check on everyone else!" Irvine relaxed his hold only after Jonathan had moved on, and he jerked the guitar strap over his head, leaving it on the stage as he gathered Zell in his arms. Zell coughed, and Irvine dropped off of the side, landing heavily in the sand and almost falling back against the side of the stage as he caught his breath. Zell was far heavier than he looked―all that muscle―and while Irvine could swing him around normally, he certainly couldn't carry him all the way back to the train. Not with, he checked and scowled, a gunshot graze over his own arm.

"Dincht." He shook Zell a little, just enough to make him look up. "Zell, can you walk?"

"I-Irvine? You came back for me?" Those blue eyes were hazy, and Irvine swallowed thickly as he realized that Zell wasn't aware of _where_ he was. Irvine eased up just enough to look over the edge of the stage, but Zell grabbed his arm, pulling him back down. "Don't go. I don't wanna get left―"

"No one's leaving you, Zell," Irvine murmured as he reached into Zell's pocket, pulled out his SeeD identification, then tugged Zell up to his feet. The street was complete chaos, the security team struggling with the screaming gunman, the crowd unable to decide whether they should run or not, the Dollet local guard flooding the area in an attempt to get everything under control. Irvine didn't even have his hat on; it had fallen on the stage where Zell had collided with him.

He coaxed Zell into walking with him, "Yeah, buddy. We're gonna get somewhere safe. You gotta walk with me," and ducked into the first hotel door he could see. He flashed the ID at the front desk, caught the keys they tossed him, and dragged Zell up to the room number on the key. By the time they reached it, Irvine's throat was tight, the mixture of adrenaline and fear almost overwhelming him.

He locked the door and pushed Zell back onto the bed, stripping the torn shirt completely off. He straddled Zell's hips. The slug stuck in the vest made his mouth go dry, and for a minute, he simply touched the metal with shaking fingertips. A little white vest had been everything between Zell and―

"You're bleeding." Zell's voice was quiet as he looked up at Irvine. "I... You got shot?"

Irvine grabbed both of Zell's wrists pushing them back down against the bed. For a moment, he thought that Zell would toss him off, but he stilled when Irvine leaned down and pressed their foreheads together.

"Just... for a second, Zell, I thought you were dead. Give me a minute." Irvine swallowed, his eyes closing. Zell's lips pressing against his own drew a gasp, and then he couldn't stop himself. He tilted his head a little to one side, deepening the kiss, tasting Zell. His fingers tightened around the wrists he still had pressed to the bed.

He pulled back slowly, tugging on Zell's lower lip in the same motion, and his hands moved down to pull the ballistic vest off of Zell. He tossed it to one side, his lips returning to press soft kisses along Zell's throat. Zell tilted his head back, and his hands lifted to touch Irvine's upper arms. Irvine couldn't feel the touch; he was numb, still riding a surge of adrenaline that threatened to consume him.

"Irvine..."

His eyes closed, and Irvine let his forehead press against Zell's chest. "Just a minute," he whispered, well aware that his voice was still shaking. He pushed his fingers up and over Zell's stomach, tracing every rise and dip, every outline of every muscle.

He touched each puckered scar he found, his eyes squeezing closed as he remembered the moments his heart had stopped, seeing Zell flat on the ground, blood everywhere. It had happened more than once, dozens of times for each of them. Each scar was a moment that they had kissed death, only to be jerked back with a well placed spell or a phoenix down forced down an unresponsive throat.

He lifted his head and pressed another kiss to Zell's lips, _needing_ it more than he wanted to admit. It wasn't until the knock on the door that he finally drew back. He didn't move to get it though, instead taking a moment to simply study Zell's face. Zell wasn't moving away from him, but there was _something_ in those blue eyes―

"Irvine! Irvine, you in there?"

Irvine swallowed, then leaned back, pushing himself off of the bed. "Yeah, Oren. I'm here," he called back. He smiled slightly when he saw Zell reach for his shirt and pull it back on, not even noticing that almost every button was missing. Presumably still laying on the stage.

"C'mon. The car's ready. We've got an escort back."

Irvine opened the door, drawing a deep breath, steadying himself. "We're going to the Galbadia Garden Station," he said softly.

Oren's eyes widened for a heartbeat, and he glanced into the room toward Zell. "He's okay?"

"Had a vest on. How is everyone else?" Irvine propped up his hand on the other side of the door frame, effectively blocking Oren's line of sight.

Oren offered him a slight grin. "Startled, but good. … Need to lay low for a few days, Irvine. Jon is pretty shaken up." He folded his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowing. "Gonna head back to the manor?"

"Yeah. Need to lay low. Safest place to do it." Irvine shrugged, and he looked back toward Zell. His throat tightened. "We all need a few days to calm down."

* * *

Zell wasn't sure what exactly shocked him more: the fact that Irvine was apparently the heir to some Galbadian fortune, or the fact that Irvine clammed up when Zell finally asked him about it. They had arrived at the Galbadia Garden Station, and a car had been _waiting_ on them, a young man standing just by the driver's door.

Feeling exceptionally awkward, Zell's discomfort had only increased when the car rolled to a stop in front of the largest house that Zell had ever seen. He was from _Balamb_, after all. In Balamb, the house sizes were constrained to maintain the skyline and horizon _just_ so. Then there was this thing, looming so far above him, Zell felt like he'd fall over trying to lean back far enough to look at it.

And _Irvine_. Irvine had sauntered easily through the front door, pulling his hat off and the band out of his hair, shaking it loose as he tossed the hat onto the rack nearby. A maid had _curtsied_ to him―"Master Kinneas! A pleasure to see you back at home!"―and Irvine had nodded, offering her one of _those_ grins.

It was the _curtsy _that had tipped Zell over the edge. Not the smile. Really.

He'd grabbed Irvine's arm, snapped something off to the effect of, "Why the hell didn't you tell me about this?"

And Irvine's face had shuttered, all trace of amusement fading before he jerked his arm out of Zell's reach. He'd stalked off, and the maid had offered to show Zell to one of the guest rooms.

That had been three days ago.

Zell had been avoiding him ever since. It wasn't easy, even in a place as big as the manor; that was what Tomo and Jon and Oren called it: _The_ Manor. He wasn't entirely certain what purpose avoiding Irvine served. So far, it only seemed to make him feel even more childish. He had even gone so far―after double checking the manor's security―to head out to Galbadia Garden to pick out his new security team.

He had an entire squad of Garden cadets, all with good marks, who had been reluctant to take their final SeeD exam, for whatever reasons they each had. Zell didn't care. It gave him a better trained base than he had to start with.

When Tomo admitted to Zell that Irvine was going to start speaking to reporters, reassuring the public that _New Generation_ was okay―no one had been injured; of _course _they didn't blame Dollet―Zell had simply assigned the best of his new team, Mamoru, to sit in on the interviews.

He was pretty sure that it would annoy Irvine.

Zell hadn't been counting on Irvine finally seeking him out. In hindsight, he realized he _should_ have been expecting it, and perhaps, even been a little impressed that it took Irvine a few days to wear down to that point. As it was, it couldn't have happened at a worse moment.

Zell had finally convinced one of the cadets, Ran, to go out to the shooting range with him. He had donned his ballistic vest again, and replaced one of the targets. He squared his shoulders and motioned for Ran to fire, which took far more coaxing than it should have, given that he was trained to follow orders.

The bullet hit him square in the chest, and Zell sank to his knees, reaching up instinctively to touch where it hit. The second gunshot in three years at him, and it still left him feeling far more vulnerable than it should. He had been _trained _for it. He punched the ground, glancing up just in time to see Irvine, still clutching Ran by the front of his shirt. Irvine's eyes widened; he dropped the cadet, grabbed the gun, and ran to Zell.

His hand was strangely heavy on Zell's shoulder, and Zell fell back to sit in the sand, looking up at him. Irvine's fingers caught at the edge of the ballistic vest under Zell's shirt, and both of them frowned.

"What the _hell_―"

They both stopped talking, and when Ran snorted at them, Zell and Irvine both shot him a _look_. He stammered out some excuse before bolting. Zell sighed and pushed up off of the ground, ignoring Irvine's outstretched hand.

"Irvine, what are you doing out here? Isn't Mamoru supposed to be with you?" He tugged his shirt up just enough to pull the slug out of the vest. It was still warm.

"Left him babysitting the reporter. Do you just _like_ getting shot, Dincht?" Irvine's hands rubbed along Zell's shoulders, and Zell drew a deep breath. It was the hotel room all over again.

"No," he finally said, shifting out of Irvine's reach. He took the gun from Irvine and smiled just slightly when he realized the safety was already on. "No, but I reacted like an idiot. I'm a SeeD. I should be over that." He dropped the slug onto the ground and trudged back up toward where Ran had been standing.

Irvine followed him, and Zell didn't have to look at him to know that he was frowning. "Are you beating yourself up over that? Hyne, Zell, anyone would have freaked. It's been how long since you've been shot at?"

"I'm a SeeD, Irvine. I took the class, same as everyone else." Zell gritted his teeth as he studied the gun in his hand. He didn't add that it had been the worst class of his life, standing there in the vest, getting shot at so that he would know what to expect. Several of the kids had _enjoyed_ it. Zell hadn't. "I should be better." He _would_ be better.

A sigh, and then Irvine took the gun back and pulled Zell to him. Zell stayed perfectly still for just a moment before he relaxed into it, wishing that it wasn't so comfortable.

"You deserve better," Zell finally whispered.

Irvine snorted, but he placed a hand on Zell's back. "You're an idiot," he murmured lowly, and Zell jerked back to look up at him. The moment he did, Irvine dipped down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Zell froze, his eyes widening a fraction more. He didn't know what to do; he couldn't _think_ with Irvine so close to him. So he stood perfectly still, wondering if this was how Selphie had felt: all at once confused and breathless and _hopeful_.

When Irvine pulled back, Zell inched away, needing the space. He needed to be able to breathe, to think. Irvine was just too much when he stood so close. It had been like that three years ago, but it had been easier to deflect. When Irvine had been chasing Selphie so hard, Zell had been able to convince himself that it was a stupid crush.

"Irvine!"

The panic in Tomo's voice made both of them whip around to look at her as she slid down the little hill into the firing range. She put a hand over her chest and grabbed one of Irvine's arms. "Irvine, we have a problem. Jon's left."

"He what?" Irvine's brow furrowed, and Zell shoved his hands into his pockets, looking at the two of them curiously.

"He left. And," Tomo's hands dropped, and she clasped them together before lowering her voice, "Irvine, Lane is here. She wants to see you." She flashed a nervous smile that warmed fractionally when Irvine rubbed her shoulder.

"I'll go see her," he said with a smile, dropping a soft kiss to Tomo's forehead.

She beamed up at him, and glanced over at Zell as Irvine left. "Sorry for interrupting. Lane's really upset though, and Irvine's the only one capable of calming her down when she gets like this."

"What?" Zell's eyes widened, and he laughed. "No! No, there wasn't anything to interrupt. Don't worry about it." He shrugged, and blushed when Tomo leaned over onto his shoulder.

"Really?" She arched an eyebrow at him, and Zell shrugged her off.

"Really. C'mon. Let's go watch Irvine handle Lane." Zell grinned at her, and relief swept over him when she returned it. They both jogged up to the mansion, pushing open the double doors just in time to hear Irvine soothing Lane's ruffled feathers.

"What do you mean 'it's under control,' Irvine? You don't have a bassist! How are you going to perform in Timber like that?" Lane wasn't what Zell had expected. To be fair, he didn't know what he'd expected. It certainly wasn't a slim woman with dirty blond hair that fell half-way down her back. She had her arms folded over her stomach and one of her feet tapped lightly on the floor.

Irvine had his best devil-may-care smile on, and he reached up to push a hand through his hair. "Well, we'll just have to find a replacement. Not like we weren't expecting this, yeah? I mean, you did warn me that Dollet and Timber would be hot spots."

Zell frowned slightly, wondering what else Irvine had not thought to mention. It would have been nice to know that.

"Galbadia loves Irvine," Tomo whispered to him, and Zell glanced back at her questioningly. "He's a Kinneas. His grandfather is a national hero, and his mother... well, she was famous too. Charity work." She smiled, and Zell nodded.

"Where are you going to find someone else to play bass for you in Timber in a few days? I mean, I expected a little trouble, but I was thinking fistfights, Irvine. Not gun shots." Lane sighed, brushing her bangs from her face. "Do you have someone in mind then?"

"Of course."

Zell's frown deepened when Irvine looked at him, and he had just enough time to shake his head before―

"Zell can play bass. He's been looking over the scores anyway. Right, Zell?" Irvine's grin widened.

"Well, yeah. But I can't play with the band. I'm head of security. I have to be able to see the crowd."

Oren coughed, just enough to interrupt, and pushed off of the wall he'd been leaning against. His hands were in his pockets. "Technically, that's not a problem. I'll just rearrange the lights on the stages so that your view of the audience isn't blocked. I mean, it might even be better, you being a little higher than them. Let you see in the back, you know?" He shrugged, and Zell scowled when Irvine nodded quickly.

"Right! It'd be safer. I mean, you'd be able to reach me faster."

Zell dropped his head, sighing. There was no arguing with Irvine. Never had been really. He supposed he could protest that he really wasn't _that_ good, but Irvine would snort and say that he'd done well enough when they'd played in Fisherman's Horizon for Squall and Rinoa. "Fine," he said. He ignored Tomo's happy clap and looked back up at Irvine. "But I do need a few days to practice with you guys. I mean, I can't just jump in without any rehearsal."

"You have three days," Lane said firmly, but she smiled at him when she walked by him toward the door. "Good job in Dollet," she murmured, her hand squeezing his shoulder briefly before she left.

Zell couldn't stop the flush of pleasure that he got from those words.

* * *

He liked the weight of the revolver in his hand. Idly, Irvine swung the gun, sending it spinning around his finger, then he caught it again, pointing it toward the blank wall. He blew out a soft breath, and when he caught sight of his reflection in the vanity mirror, he laughed. He was already made-up―purple eyeliner, glittery eyeshadow, clear lip gloss— with his hair tumbling down his back. He looked almost ridiculous with the gun in his hand, a sharp contrast to the tight leather pants and feathered collar of his jacket.

He never had figured out how Squall had managed to pull off the look without feeling completely foolish.

Idly, he brushed his thumb over the back of the gun, and then he leaned over and placed it back in the nightstand drawer, where he normally kept it. Another look at his reflection―the ballistic vest was completely hidden under his jacket and looser purple t-shirt―and he headed to the door. He hesitated only for a moment, closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath, before he headed into the other car.

Oren, wearing equally tight black pants and a billowy, white shirt, glanced up from the guitar he'd been tuning. He held it out to Irvine, and Irvine smiled as he took it.

"You ready?" Oren leaned forward, propping his elbows up on his knees.

Irvine's smile grew into a grin. "Of course." He started to ask about the stage, but he stopped when Tomo―purple sequined dress so short that Irvine didn't think she'd _dare_ to bend over had she not paired it with black leather pants―tugged Zell out of her room. Zell was flushed and clutching the bass, as though it might somehow protect him from the whirling mass of energy that _was_ Tomo. His blond hair was down from its normal spikes, swept over to the side opposite the tattoo. Tomo had very cleverly connected the black design into Zell's eyeliner. Irvine couldn't help but laugh at the thought of Zell sitting still for eyeliner or mascara.

"Doesn't he look _darling_?" Tomo giggled, pushing Zell out in front of her.

Baggy knee-length shorts were gone, replaced with pants that matched Irvine's and Oren's. Zell wore a white button-down shirt with a black tie. It was just loose enough that Irvine suspected he was wearing a vest as well under it. Hell, after Dollet, they all were.

"You look good," Irvine managed after a minute. He realized that Zell was scuffing one shoe against the floor of the train car, and his grin widened. "Let's go. Stage is waiting."

Tomo and Oren both ducked out, and Irvine glanced up at Zell before he asked softly, "You're okay?"

"'M fine," he muttered, reaching up and touching his hair. "Let's go, yeah?"

Irvine shrugged, and then hopped out of the train. They made it to the stage―set up in front of Timber Maniacs, with the editor waiting just to the side for his private interview after the show―with minimal fuss. Lights on, blue, purple, and green; Irvine picked out a chord on the guitar, then grabbed the microphone.

"Hello, TIMBER!"

A deafening roar answered him, and he grinned, wrapping his hand all the way around the microphone and plucking it off of the stand. He introduced the band, reassuring everyone that no, Jon hadn't been injured in Dollet. "He just wanted to go a different direction," Irvine placated the crowd with, ignoring the look Zell shot him. "But instead, we have Zell on the bass tonight!"

The crowd didn't appear to notice or care about the difference, and Irvine plunked the microphone back on the stand before he started singing. The music and the _tension_ in the audience had him trembling, and three songs in, he could scarcely stand it. He launched into his guitar solo, stepping back from the mic for just a moment. The position placed him almost shoulder to shoulder with Zell, and when he glanced up, he saw that Zell was just as affected.

Zell's eyes were almost closed, _into_ the music, and while that might not have been the best for a body-guard, it was an addictive sight all the same. His lips parted just a little; _singing the chorus _that Irvine was playing the melody for. Tomo's voice spilled out over the stage―You're the only one for me, you are my _destiny_―and Irvine couldn't stand it.

In one motion, he stroked the last chord of his solo and swung the guitar onto his back, reaching for Zell and pulling him into a fierce kiss. Zell didn't struggle, just melted against him, and Irvine pulled back, the roar of the crowd mixing with his own heartbeat thumping in his ears. He didn't move until the cue in the drum tempo dragged him back to the microphone.

The lyrics were instinctive after so much practice. He was glad, because he felt like he was on fire, still trembling from the energy flooding him. "How can I walk away from this? You are my destiny." His eyes fell closed, and he stepped a little closer to the mic. "You're the only one for me; you are..." He pitched his voice a little lower. "You are my _destiny_."

Even after the end of the concert, Irvine's body was humming, taut with the high that came from performing live. No shots were taken, no trouble from the crowd that he had seen. Timber marked their best performance yet.

Irvine threw an arm over Zell's shoulders when he got back to the car after the interview, and he grinned when he saw that Zell's eyes were only marginally clearer than his own. He took advantage of it, stealing another kiss before he collapsed in his bed. Zell perched on the edge beside him, and they both broke into laughter, not entirely sure what had sparked it. Irvine pulled Zell down over him, reaching up to stroke a fingertip down that black tattoo.

"Zell," it was harder than it should have been to force his lips to say actual words. "Zell... thank you." His hand slipped around to cup the back of Zell's neck. Zell leaned into the touch, wearing the same stupid grin Irvine had.

"Thank _you_," he giggled, and Irvine pulled him down for another kiss.


	4. Broken Open

The salt air from the docks was a delight, especially after being cooped up in the train for so long. Tomo and Oren had marveled over the underwater tunnel connecting Timber to Balamb, and Zell had cheerfully explained its history on the trip back.

Then they'd arrived, and Zell must have looked longingly toward his house on their way to the hotel, because Irvine leaned over, wrapped an arm over Zell's shoulders, and made excuses for the rest of the day. Oren had taken them without any issues— he had a stage to build, after all— and Tomo had waved them out cheerfully, saying that she had to meet Lane anyway. Zell found himself standing in front of his door before he could even process everything that had happened.

He opened the door, breathed in the smell of fresh bread baking in the oven, and called, "Ma?"

"Zell?" She stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on the small towel she had tucked in the front of her apron. Zell smiled— it had been far longer than he liked since he'd been home last— and when she closed the distance between them, she lightly touched his arm. "Oh, honey. It's good to see you." She grinned when she saw Irvine, and she held out her arms with a laugh. "C'mere, Irvine Kinneas."

A soft blush lit Irvine's face, and Zell's smile widened into a grin of his own when Irvine hugged her. The cowboy looked so at ease for that brief moment, even with the blush, that Zell almost couldn't believe it.

Then she was standing back, holding Irvine's upper arms between her hands as she studied him. "Far too skinny," she announced with a soft sigh. "Gotta feed you while you're here."

"Yes, ma'am," Irvine answered, ducking his head. No one argued with Ma Dincht. Ever. He glanced over toward Zell, and then asked softly, "Can I go see those rifles? I won't shoot one, promise."

Zell hesitated, and then he realized that Irvine was trying to give him some privacy without compromising his own safety. He nodded, jerking his head toward the stairs. "You know where they are," he said, and then Irvine headed up the stairs.

Ma looked over at him, a knowing smile on her face, and he felt a blush starting on his own face. "He seems nice," she said, and it took Zell another moment to realize what she was getting at. Quickly, he shook his head.

"It's not like that. He's... it's work, Ma. "

"Mm." She reached up to hide her grin, and Zell sat at the table, rubbing at the side of his face, wondering why the hell he kept blushing so damn hard. "I saw the performance in Timber."

He felt the bottom of his stomach drop out, and he risked a glance up at her. She was back in the kitchen area, pulling the loaf of bread out of the oven. "What?"

"Oh, sure. The TV was your father's, you know. It still picks up channels." She didn't look at him, but Zell found himself wishing that he could sink into the floor. "Some of the kids came over to see the performance, and I watched it with them."

"Just work, Ma. It was... It was the heat of the moment, yeah?" He pointedly stared at the wooden table top, and his fingertips found the indention that they always did when he was in trouble. He'd sat at that table for years, especially when Ma needed to 'talk' to him. The indention was worn so smooth it felt like silk. "Doesn't mean anything."

He listened to her cutting the bread, the crusty outside had a distinctive sound, and he swallowed thickly when she put a plate with two pieces, both smeared with jam, in front of him. "Well," she said softly, wiping her hands again, "Can't fault a mother for hoping. I like him, you know." She sat in the chair beside him, and she lightly covered his hand with hers, gently dislodging his fingers from the indention. "But so long as you're happy. How long will you be with him?"

He squeezed her hand slightly, and then he picked up one of the pieces of bread. He didn't eat it yet, just held it, the heat of it comforting against his fingertips. "Not sure," he finally said. "Long as he needs me, I guess." Then he added, "Well, I mean, to the end of the tour, of course. But I'm not sure how long after that."

"Why don't you take that up there and see if he's hungry? I'll cook something for dinner for you boys. You can invite the rest of the band too."

Zell smiled faintly, looking up at her. There was no arguing with Ma. Ever.

"Sure," he said, and he set the bread back down and took the plate up to his room. Irvine was sitting on the floor, his back against the bed, one of the rifles in his lap. He looked up when Zell entered the room, and Zell set the plate down as he sat on the floor beside Irvine. "What are you doing?"

"These need to be cleaned. You don't have a kit?" Irvine opened the gun and then closed it again, looking over at Zell curiously. It was almost strange, seeing him without the stage make-up. Odd, how quickly he'd gotten used to it.

"No. I think it got thrown out. They're not being used, so why do they need to be cleaned? I dust them." Zell frowned, picking up a piece of bread and tearing off a bite.

Irvine snorted at him, but his smile was affectionate, not demeaning. "Just proper maintenance, Zell. What is that?"

"Bread?"

A sigh. "Obviously. The green stuff."

"Oh!" Zell grinned. "You're such a tourist when you're here in Balamb. It's a seaweed jelly. It's good. That one is for you."

Irvine hesitated, and then he offered a very small smile and shook his head. "Nope. I'm fine." He glanced back down at the gun in his lap, sighed, and stood to put it back.

"Don't like seaweed jelly?"

The cowboy glanced back at him, then shook his head. "Never tried it. Not planning on it." He put the rifle on the rack carefully, his fingertips sliding slowly down the others still hanging there.

"Such a kid." Zell grinned and took another bite. He didn't miss the way Irvine's fingers curled over each barrel of the rifles, how it was clear he was aching to hold them all. Not like he had enough hands anyway. "Are you planning on mooning over my guns all day?"

Irvine's eyes cut over to him, and then he crouched down by Zell on the floor. "I can't help it if you have impressive guns, Zell." His voice was low, and when his fingers brushed lightly over one of Zell's arms, Zell felt his face flush. Darkly.

"Stop it," he muttered, glancing back toward the door. It didn't matter that it was closed. Ma Dincht had x-ray vision; Zell was sure of it. "Ma saw the performance," he finally said softly. Irvine stilled, and then he sat back down all the way, looking at Zell curiously.

"Was she upset?"

"What? No." Zell scowled. Irvine was missing the point. "It's not that. I don't... I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea, Irvine." He wasn't entirely sure what the wrong idea was, to be perfectly honest, but Zell did know that he didn't want any more confusion than had already happened. "You and I... we're not—"

"A couple?" Irvine leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. The position looked like it had to be uncomfortable, but the cowboy didn't seem bothered. "It's a performance, Zell. It's all show."

Zell swallowed thickly, and then he nodded. "Exactly." The word was like dust in his mouth, but at least Irvine had been the one to state the actual boundaries. "The ... the kiss after—"

"Just adrenaline." Irvine's smile was knowing, and Zell nodded again. They were on the same page and that was just as well, given the nature of their relationship.

"Exactly," he murmured. Adrenaline.

* * *

Adrenaline, his foot.

Irvine wasn't entirely certain what upset him more, the fact that he had found himself agreeing with Zell, casually sweeping something important under the rug, or the fact that Zell looked so _relieved_ when they did. Whatever the case, as soon as they left Ma Dincht's house, Irvine headed down to the docks, where Oren already had their stage underway. He considered his options for a minute, and then he headed down to help.

"Irvine?"

"Don't have anything else to do today, Zell. Why don't you go set up a perimeter or something?" Irvine raised an eyebrow, and he was careful to keep his smile steady. "You have that team to set up, after all." When Zell didn't move, Irvine sighed and lifted his shirt just enough that Zell could see the revolver at his hip. "I'm okay."

Zell hesitated a moment more, but he must have agreed, because he finally nodded. "Be safe, yeah?" He headed back up toward the hotel, presumably to collect the rest of the security team.

Irvine blew out a breath before he sought Oren out of the small crew working. "You want an extra set of hands?" He peeled off his vest and, after just a moment, his shirt. Oren glanced up, smiled, and held out a hammer.

"Always welcome. You ditch your SeeD?"

Irvine snorted, and he took over attaching the piece that Oren had been working on. "Needed a little bit without his naivete." When Oren nodded but didn't ask anything else, Irvine glanced up at him. "Really? That's it?"

Oren shrugged. "If it were any of my business, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?" He lifted another piece of wood and nodded toward it, so that Irvine would go ahead and start on it.

"Well, yeah. It's just... neither Tomo nor Zell would drop it that easily." Irvine was careful not to hit his fingers with the hammer. The last thing he needed was an ache right before he got up there to play.

"That's why you're here with me instead of up there with them." Oren chuckled as he glanced up toward the only entrance to the docks.

Irvine followed his gaze, and he couldn't stop the smile as he watched Tomo and Lane approach Zell. The crisp salute Zell offered them made Irvine laugh.

"He isn't what I expected," Oren said, even as he tugged on the newly secured board, assuring himself that it wouldn't go anywhere. "I mean, okay, I don't _know_ many SeeDs, but... I just was expecting something else."

Irvine sighed before he looked back at Oren. "Better be careful. He'll get under your skin, and then you'll never be rid of him."

A laugh, and then Oren handed Irvine another board. "Do you miss it? Traveling with them?"

There was a lull, where both of them stopped what they were doing. Instead, they simply looked at each other, and Irvine weighed the question, trying to decide how to answer. "I... Of course I miss it. I don't miss the constant danger or the … everything else that went with it, but I miss them."

"I wondered, you know. The first time I mentioned a band, you laughed at me." Oren's smile was small, and it didn't meet his eyes. "Then you came back after the chaos, and you wanted to know if I had any lyrics written that we could use."

"I was a jerk," Irvine murmured.

"When are you not?"

The new voice was familiar enough that Irvine twisted around to see who it belonged to. He straightened slowly, his hand instinctively moving to lightly hover just above the revolver on his hip. "Seifer. I wasn't expecting you here."

"Wasn't expecting to be here." Seifer approached him slowly, and Irvine studied him, wondering briefly what his end game was. He was darker, tanned from so much time outside, and his blond hair was longer than it had been. He was scruffier, as though he spent less time conforming to Garden regulations and more time simply being. He held out his hand, and after just a moment, Irvine took it.

It seemed as though the moment stretched for too long, both of them sizing each other up, trying to figure out exactly where they stood with one another. Finally, Irvine broke the silence with a quiet, "You look good. Better." He let his hand drop slowly, and at Seifer's faint smile, he felt odd. As though he'd said something unnecessarily cruel.

"Yeah," Seifer murmured, and he surveyed the work they were doing. "A stage? It's true then. You're some kind of big rock star?"

"First tour," Irvine replied, glancing back at Oren. "We've arranged storage of the stages at all the cities we're stopping at."

"Huh. Wouldn't it be easier to just transport a stage?"

"Sure." Irvine shrugged, and he moved to hold up a piece for Oren. "But then everyone here would have nothing to do all day."

"We like to put money back into the cities we're visiting," Oren explained, offering Seifer a smile. "Help out where we can."

"Where did you manage to get the money to start this?" Seifer brushed his hair back out of his eyes, and Irvine simply smiled. Seifer's eyes widened. "You're using the Kinneas money for this?"

Irvine went perfectly still. He had forgotten how much time Seifer had spent with the Galbadian army, honestly. He shrugged as casually as he could. "Why not? It wasn't being used for anything else of interest."

Seifer snorted, but a smile touched his lips again. "Not a bad plan," he said, and Irvine felt a little uncertain of whether he _wanted_ Seifer approving of what he did. But they exchanged another look, and Irvine couldn't stop the smile then. No matter what happened, they had always been connected, similar in the strangest of ways. If nothing else, by the simple fact that neither of them were exactly SeeD material.

"I mean, obviously, I left enough for Galbadia Garden. Grandfather Kinneas is still Garden Master, after all."

"Liar." Seifer's eyes narrowed, and Oren froze, lowering the hammer in his hand.

Irvine raised an eyebrow with a small smile. "Am I?"

"Caraway secured your emancipation. You are the sole owner of the Kinneas fortune." Seifer leaned against the part of the stage that had been secured. He didn't smile, just studied Irvine. "I led the Galbadian army, Kinneas. You can't pull this sort of thing over me."

"Pull what sort of thing? Seifer, I'll need you to back up." Zell's voice was harsh as the little blond bounced back to the docks. He puffed out his chest, probably without realizing it, and Irvine ducked his head to hide his grin.

Seifer took a step back. "Dincht? What are you doing here?"

"Someone hired Garden as a bodyguard," Irvine explained with a little shrug. "Not entirely sure who, but I ended up with Zell."

"All the real SeeDs out on missions, Dincht?" Surprisingly, there was no malice behind the jab. It almost seemed like it was reflex.

Clearly, it still stung, because Zell flushed and raised a fist. Quickly, Irvine caught his arm and pulled him back. Zell, taken off balance, frowned at him, then Seifer, before finally settling on, "Yeah, well; at least I _am_ a SeeD."

Irvine locked his jaw, stopping some equally snarky comment from escaping him.

Zell looked between them again before he asked, "What line was Irvine trying to feed you?"

Irvine swallowed. He hadn't explained anything to Zell yet, and the last thing he wanted was some distorted truth coming from Seifer. He opened his mouth—

"Irvine was trying to convince him to come to the concert," Oren supplied easily, going back to work. He cast Seifer a look, and Irvine breathed a sigh of relief as Zell failed to pick up on it.

Seifer simply shrugged, offering Zell a smirk. "Like I said, I don't think that Kinneas here can carry a tune in a bucket in private let alone on stage." He leaned against the stage again, and Irvine wrinkled his nose at Seifer.

"You're just jealous," Irvine decided, picking up the thread of the diversionary conversation easily enough. "I mean, all the girls are interested in is meeting me. Lead singer and all."

Zell scowled as he pushed Irvine. "If you're going to help Oren, why don't you actually help Oren instead of gossiping with Seifer? Seifer, sorry man, but you happen to be a security risk. Can't have you down here unsupervised."

Seifer spread his hands, the epitome of innocence. "I'm on my way out, Dincht. Honest."

Irvine smiled before he returned to work with Oren. This time, they didn't talk, and Zell stayed for a few more minutes before he finally jogged back up to talk to a group of the security team standing at the mouth of the docks.

The moment he was completely out of earshot, Oren asked softly, "You _got _your emancipation, Irvine? You told me Caraway fell through on it."

Irvine shook his head. "I never got any paperwork on it. It must still be at the manor somewhere. I'll find it after the tour." He licked his bottom lip, sighed again, and did his very best to focus on the work. By the time the stage was built, it was almost dark, and the band managed a light meal, mostly power bars.

Irvine sat for a long time in front of the mirror in his room, trying to get himself in the right head space for the concert. The work of building the stage had been a good idea; had worked off a lot of his anger at Zell and at himself. But the confrontation with Seifer hadn't been the very best of ideas.

He picked up the bottle of liquid eyeliner, held it in his hands for a minute, and set it back down. There was a slight rap on the outer door of the train car before it slid open, and Irvine looked up at Zell.

Zell was already made up and dressed up for the show. He had on an interesting blue eyeshadow, black eyeliner, and was wearing the signature black pants that all of the guys wore in _New Generation_. His shirt was dark blue, contrasting nicely with his tanned skin.

"You're not ready?" Zell frowned at him, and then leaned against the vanity as he looked at Irvine. "You're almost always ready first."

"I can't find it," Irvine murmured. "I can't find the thread I'm supposed to be on."

For a moment, he wasn't sure that Zell would understand. Then Zell crouched down beside him, smiled, and took the bottle of eyeliner from him. He reached across the vanity surface, found a make-up palette with eyeshadow, and selected a brilliant purple.

Irvine closed his eyes without being prompted. Zell's touch was lighter than Irvine expected, and a smile curved his lips. "I didn't think you knew how to put on make-up."

The brush disappeared for a moment before it returned, and Zell murmured, "Of course I do. We had to take multiple disguise courses. Didn't you have to take those in Galbadia?"

Irvine shrugged. "Not a SeeD, Zell. I have no idea." There was a minute of silence, and the brush finally returned once more.

"Right. Sorry. I forget that you turned Matron and Headmaster Cid down after we saved all existence."

Irvine wrinkled his nose before he blinked his eyes open. "I did what I felt was right. You, of all people, can't fault me for that."

Zell looked at him, and then he shrugged as he picked up the eyeliner pencil, leaving the bottle of liquid liner on the vanity. "I don't understand _why_ you said no, Irvine. I don't get why you disappeared for three damned years before you came back as a freaking singer, of all things. How is this doing what's right?"

The pencil was light, despite the force behind Zell's words, and Irvine was very careful not to move. The last thing he wanted was to have an eye put out by a pencil in the hands of an excitable martial artist. Only when Zell was done did Irvine frown at him.

"I have my reasons. This tour is important."

"Where is the tenth stop, Irvine?" Zell leaned back, raising an eyebrow. "You've announced every stop on the tour except that one. Where is it?"

Irvine swallowed, but he was rescued by the rap of fingers on the door.

"Five minutes, Irvy!"

Irvine raised an eyebrow. "I still have to change, Zell. Gonna stay for that?"

Zell scowled before he slipped out the door, presumably to wait with Tomo. Irvine leaned forward until his forehead touched the vanity top, and he blew out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Balamb first. Worry about everything else tomorrow, Kinneas," he reminded himself, and he moved to get dressed. Black pants were a given, as was the hat sitting on the very edge of the vanity. He lingered for a few minutes on the tops though, finally settling on a black, long-sleeved top that he paired with the purple vest, something that wouldn't reveal the bulk of the ballistics vest.

He placed the hat on his head firmly, and for a minute, when he glanced in the mirror, it was like seeing someone else. Someone different. He reached out, touched a finger to his reflection, and then he headed out the door.

The stage welcomed him in a way that nothing else ever had, and he found himself slipping into that stage persona easily. He worked the crowd, laughing and cheering and coaxing even the straight-laced SeeDs in the back into singing along with at least two songs. He was careful to spend most of his time on the half of the stage away from Zell.

The last thing he needed was a repeat of the Timber performance, especially with Ma Dincht right there in the crowd, and Seifer standing with Fujin and Raijin near the back. It was a whirlwind of light, color, and music, and by the time he was saying goodnight, it felt as though he'd been singing for Balamb for days.

He didn't remember dinner with Ma Dincht, although he was sure that he laughed and offered jokes and smiled when spoken to. He just knew that he was exhausted, and the worst was yet to come.

They had to get a boat ride to Trabia.


	5. Whataya Want From Me?

A two day boat ride was never Zell's favorite thing to do. Particularly not when he knew that Garden's ships could have shot to Trabia and back within hours, not days. Irvine didn't want to take a Garden boat though, and instead, they were stuck on a civilian ship, complete with tourists and fans who swooned whenever Irvine or Oren walked on deck. That made for a long boat ride, full of arguments and awkward silences and snippy behavior. Zell wasn't entirely sure what had gotten into Irvine, but whatever it was, it seemed to be under his skin, affecting his mood. Zell quickly found himself spending more time with Tomo and Oren, working on melodies and lyrics for new songs, than he did with Irvine. It was unusual, and Zell didn't like it.

At the same time, he was grateful for it, since it forced him to do things other than stare at Irvine. His thoughts had begun to get away from him whenever he spotted Irvine, and he was more than just a little distressed at the turn they'd taken. He hadn't had those thoughts about anyone really— beyond brief fantasies that fluttered across his mind's eye when he spotted a pretty girl— let alone about someone like Irvine. Not for the first time, he wondered if Selphie had been exceptionally smart, running the way she had.

She, at least, had some sense of self-preservation.

By the time they docked and rented a car to drive to Trabia, Zell was ready to crash. He was exhausted, tired of both trying to figure out what he was going to do as well as trying to figure out why Irvine was so different after seeing Seifer again.

Trabia looked better though. The reconstruction had been underway for three years, and while no one was certain that it would ever fly again, it was certainly useable. Habitable. And there was a huge banner draped across the main gate, announcing the welcome to _New Generation_. Someone had written in bold black marker under the band name, _and Zell!_

Zell scratched the back of his neck, wondering if it had been Selphie. She was the most likely candidate after all. Irvine chuckled when he saw the sign. "I guess they wrote that before they realized you were a part of the band, eh?"

"I'm not a part of the band, Irvine. I'm filling in." Zell ignored the look that Irvine sent him for that, and instead, he sighed as he noticed the small batch of girls waiting by the gate for them. Tomo giggled as she wiggled her fingers at them, some bizarre wave of hers, and Oren looked straight past them as he studied the stage already built for them.

Zell smiled when the girls flocked to them, getting Oren's autograph before he vaulted onto the stage to start checking it over, then getting Tomo's autograph before she shouldered her bag and headed into the Garden, presumably to locate Selphie, their contact while in Trabia. Then they looked toward Irvine, and as they rushed in, Zell stepped between them holding out his hands.

"Okay, ladies. Autographs are just fine, but I need you to—"

"That's _Zell_," one of them hissed, and the entire group went silent as they stared at him.

"—to... What? Why are you looking at me like that?" He licked his bottom lip, and Irvine laughed behind him.

"He gives autographs too," Irvine announced, and the stillness that blanketed them was suddenly gone. Zell had exactly enough time to give Irvine a dirty look before a CD case was shoved into his hands, along with at least three different markers. He forced a smile on his face and flipped the case over to where Tomo and Oren had both autographed it. His stomach sank just slightly as he noticed the front of the CD cover.

There was a little boy standing in the middle of the desert, holding a rifle, and several different uniforms had been overlaid on him. The picture had him in a Dollet uniform from about mid-thigh down, a Galbadian uniform from mid-thigh to mid-chest, a Garden uniform from mid-chest up. An Estharian helmet was tucked under his arm. _Playing Soldier_ was the title of the CD.

But the thing that stopped Zell cold wasn't actually the uniforms or the implications of such a young boy dressed as a soldier. What stopped him was that he was almost positive that the boy was _Irvine_, and while he was certain that the helmet and the uniforms had been added in, something told him that the gun in his hands was real. The haunted look in his face hadn't needed to be added.

He glanced up at Irvine even as he scrawled his name over the case, but Irvine was looking off toward the sun, his eyes closed as he soaked up what little warmth it offered. Trabia was too far north for either of their tastes, Irvine being a desert boy and Zell being from Balamb. He whistled to catch Irvine's attention, and then he tossed him the CD over the girls' heads.

Irvine caught both it and the marker that followed, signed them both, and returned them to the girl with a kiss on her forehead. Zell wrinkled up his nose at that, but he didn't have too long to focus on it before another CD was in his hands. By the time they got the girls taken care of, Zell wasn't entirely sure that he liked the attention that came with being in a band, but he glanced up and smiled widely at Selphie when she appeared at the gate. He looked back at the girl talking with Irvine, and then he waved Selphie down.

He should have known to expect something, but he wasn't prepared for her racing down the pathway and _leaping_ onto him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs wrapped around his hips. He staggered back just a step, but they were both laughing as he steadied himself. She rubbed her nose on his neck then peeled herself away, wearing one of the biggest grins he'd ever seen on her.

"Zell! You look great!" She stepped back to actually look at him, and she held out her arms for just a minute before clasping her hands over her chest. "Band life agrees with you!" She looked toward Irvine, and her grin, somehow widened. "Or maybe it's not the band life?"

Zell groaned. "Not you too, Selphie. Nothing is going on with Irvine and me." He pointedly didn't look at the cowboy, over there flirting with the girls. "It's work."

"Mm." Selphie's expression was knowing, that self-satisfied smugness that came with having lived through whatever Zell was floundering with. "Well—"

"Oh, no. No. The last thing I need is you two getting all buddy-buddy." Irvine interrupted them, firmly planting himself in between them. "No exchanging secrets on avoiding me or fending me off or anything else you want to talk about. In fact, Selphie, why don't we go talk about this show?" Irvine cast Zell a look, pulling his shirt up just enough to assure Zell that he was indeed wearing the gun on his hip.

Zell hesitated, but really, he didn't think Trabia was going to be a bad area. Everyone in Trabia loved Selphie, and it was well known that Selphie was quite fond of Irvine. He must have paused too long though, because then even Selphie was giggling at him.

"Never fear! I'm a SeeD too. I can protect our civilian," she promised, and both of them grinned at Irvine's pained groan. "Why don't you go help Tomo? She's helping Oren set up the stage."

Zell nodded once, and he headed over toward the stage as Selphie and Irvine disappeared into the Garden, Irvine's arm wrapped around her shoulder. He had just hoisted himself up when he heard the giggling, and he glanced over his shoulder to see another group of girls. Most of them wore huge smiles and blushes, and when he waved at them, their giggles increased sharply, even as their hands lifted to wave back.

"I thought Trabia trained SeeDs," Tomo murmured with a smile, and Zell laughed at her.

"Well, it does, but they're still kids." Zell watched her wave to the group, and then he shook his head just slightly. "I mean, even SeeDs get excited to meet their favorite band members or ... anyone else they admire." He couldn't help but think of Selphie, blushing and giggling and shivering as she shook Laguna's hand the first time. "We're still people."

"Just serious people." Tomo laughed at his expression, and she handed him a bunch of wires. "Here, let's get these hooked up."

* * *

"So..." Selphie leaned forward, offering Irvine one of her biggest grins. "Have you kissed him again?"

Irvine smiled slightly as they walked through the Garden. "No." Anticipating her next question, he added, "I don't know if I'm going to."

Selphie stuck her lower lip out in a pout, and she folded her arms behind her head. She still managed to somehow almost-skip as she walked. "It got the crowd all worked up though. I'm pretty sure it would be equally popular here in Trabia."

"It's dangerous," Irvine responded. "Someone took a shot at me in Dollet. I really should let Zell do his job." Her smile faded a little as she slowed her steps, and Irvine stopped to glance back at her. "What?"

She reached out her hand, then simply lunged forward, wrapping her arms around his midsection and squeezing him close to her. He closed his eyes before he gently hugged her back. He didn't try to remove her from around him, just put his hand lightly on top of her head.

"I'm okay, Selphie," he murmured, and she squeezed him a little more tightly before she let him go. She looked away quickly, probably in an attempt to hide the redness around her eyes. He pretended that he didn't notice it.

"I was worried about you," she whispered. "I mean, you and Zell. They aired the shot, you know? Zell just... appeared out of no where and when he fell—"

"I know." Irvine cut her off, not wanting to relive the experience any more than he had to. It had horrified him, and he did his very best not to think about Dollet any more than he had to.

"They found the shooter a few days later. He was part of some anti-Galbadian movement." Selphie sighed as she swept her bangs away from her face. "I just can't imagine anyone wanting to shoot you."

He grinned, and she rolled her eyes.

"Well," she clarified, "any rebel organizations. Unless they're run by women."

Irvine staggered back, clutching at his chest. "Selphie, why must you wound me so? I told you once before. You and I... we're destined to be together."

She looked at him for a minute, her eyes narrowed as she tried to figure out if he was serious or not. She sighed. "Irvine, I—"

"I was just joking with you," he replied, ruffling her hair before he started walking again. "I was thinking... Trabia's done a lot of repairs, but you guys still have a ton of work to do, don't you?"

Selphie straightened her hair and caught up with him. She must have still wanted to talk about him, about his _feelings_, and whatever else she could come up with, but talking about her beloved Trabia was enough to distract her. "Yeah. We were thinking about trying to get a crew from FH out here to do repairs. I'm not sure they'd come though."

Irvine nodded slowly. "What about if we donate the proceeds from this concert back into Trabia? Would that help?" He glanced down at her, and she smiled widely.

"Of course it would, but don't you guys need that money to finish out the tour?" She tilted her head a little to one side.

He quickly looked away, shrugging. "Not particularly. I mean, we don't need it the way Trabia does." Not for the first time, Irvine wondered what had possessed him into plotting out this tour route. "We can recoup losses at the next Timber gig."

"I'm nervous about you playing in Timber again, Irvine," she confessed softly, and Irvine shivered. "I mean, anti-Galbadian sentiment is pretty widespread right now; even more so than before President Deling was killed."

"We'll be safe," Irvine responded.

Selphie nodded slowly at him, and then she reached out and wrapped her arms around one of his. She leaned up, resting her head against his upper arm. He looked down at her curiously. "What is it?"

"I've missed you," she said quietly. It was one of the first things she'd ever said to him in that tone, that seriously. Even her warnings about Timber weren't so... solemn.

He smiled, and he would have ruffled her hair again except that he felt as though he couldn't move. "Selphie..."

"I mean... We're no good for each other. I know that." She sighed as she let him go, her hands sliding down until the only thing she touched was the tip of his fingers. She raised that hand so that she could look at it, so that she could brush the pads of his fingers over her cheek. "But you're still a friend, Irvine. I don't want to lose that."

He swallowed. He wasn't entirely sure that he could do it; be her friend and not want her, not want to keep her. At the same time, he realized, he felt less longing when he saw her. He was happy to see her without the sharp ache that he'd grown used to when they'd been saving the world and ignoring real life. When—

He stopped himself there. They were still kids. Still minors. Irvine couldn't even drink legally yet. He slid his hand along her face, made her look up, and he kissed her softly on the lips. She went still under him, the way she always did, and then he drew back with a smile. He had his answer: the strange feeling in his chest was gone, the one he'd been chasing when he'd pursued her so heavily. His hand dropped.

Selphie must have sensed that something had changed between them in that moment, that their pieces had finally clicked together, although not how either of them had originally imagined. "Irvine?"

"Don't move," he whispered. He wanted to remember that moment, her standing beside him, the sunlight glittering through the windows and glinting off of her hair. He wanted to keep the taste of her last kiss, wanted to preserve that sense of peace stealing over him.

Finality.

His smile widened. He had a new song.

* * *

Tomo was leaning in front of Zell, her tongue stuck out a little over her upper lip as she smudged his eyeshadow. He still hadn't gotten used to the feel of it, heavy on his eyes, but her touch was pleasant enough, light and airy. She never made him look idiotic, so that was something. He watched her curiously, closing his eyes when instructed and opening them whenever she was still for too long.

She kept pulling back and simply looking at him. Then she'd get some sort of frown and work some more on his face. The entire process was beginning to unnerve him. "What is it?" he finally asked, the fourth time she did it. She waved a hand, and then she reached out and caught his chin in her hand.

"Do you like him?" she asked back, and Zell hesitated. There was no confusing who she meant, no pretending that he didn't understand. There was only one 'him' whenever anyone spoke to him these days.

He sighed, and he shrugged slowly. "It doesn't matter—"

"That's not what I asked. Do. You. Like. Him?"

Zell licked his lips, and then he closed his eyes. It must have been answer enough because she nodded slowly, leaned in a little closer, and said, "Then you should stop being such a wuss and _do_ something about it."

Before he could find a retort to that, she was brandishing the eye pencil. He swallowed back any smart ass remarks and let her work. He was more than capable of doing his own make-up, but he had foolishly agreed to let her do it in an attempt to find some sort of common ground, something that they could bond over.

Zell wondered why the hell he'd wanted to bond with any of the band. He was leaving as soon as the tour was over. It would be half over as soon as they were finished in Trabia. They needed to catch a boat back to Balamb, pick up the train car, and head to Timber for their next number. He licked his lips again, and then Tomo had another device in her hands. Lip gloss.

He scowled, but she didn't take no for an answer. Ever, from what he had seen so far. She made him think of Selphie, and briefly, he wondered if that was part of why Irvine had her in the band.

Then she was throwing clothes at him and they were clambering on stage, all in matching black pants, bright colored tops that hid their ballistics vests, and Zell could feel the energy beginning to sweep through him. He could grow addicted to this, he realized, and it was an unsettling thought.

"Greetings, Trabia!" Irvine was in a good mood as he paced up and down the stage, already worked up beyond his normal easy-going attitude. Zell would never had admitted it to anyone, but he liked seeing Irvine like this, so thoroughly enthralled by something besides guns and cute girls. Introductions were made and all of the band members responded appropriately, chords and drum riffs, and then Irvine was leaning down over the edge of stage, running his hands along those of the fans.

Zell saw Mamoru and Ran exchange looks, and he laughed, unable to stop himself. There was no controlling Irvine.

"Well, everyone, I don't know if you heard, but I have an announcement tonight." Irvine leaned back and meandered across the stage toward the microphone stand. "You know the cover fee? Well, it's going right back into Trabia tonight. You all have done an _amazing_ job here!"

There was a roar from the crowd in response, and Irvine was laughing, holding out his hands. "Never fear, we'll still perform just for you guys tonight. No TV crews out here." He winked, and Zell idly stroked another chord on the bass. Irvine glanced over at him, and Zell offered a smile. Irvine's eyes narrowed, and then he looked back at the crowd. Zell went still, his smile fading.

Had he pushed too damn hard? Shoving Irvine away? He swallowed, and then they were playing the first song, then the second, and by the third, Zell felt something strange as he realized that Irvine was once again on the other side of the stage. With _Tomo_. His eyes narrowed sharply, watching the cowboy, and when he couldn't stand it a moment longer, he purposely stepped into Irvine's personal area, the space he kept pacing in between.

Irvine started to skirt around him, but the music coincided nicely, and Zell didn't let himself think. He slung the bass around to his back, caught the front of Irvine's shirt and pulled him down for a kiss. He was rougher than he might have normally been, but with the cheers from the crowd in his ears and Irvine's hands sliding up his arms, Zell couldn't stop.

They lingered almost a full measure too long, but Tomo covered their lapse well enough. When they pulled apart, Irvine looked at Zell for just a moment more, and they finished the song. Zell wondered if the crowd could tell just how hard his fingers were shaking, how much trouble he was having picking out the chords and notes that he'd rushed to memorize.

Irvine's taste was on his lips though, and he relished it, reaching up the first chance he got to touch his bottom lip. There were some flashes of cameras, and Zell suddenly had no doubt that there would be a picture of him, touching his mouth, looking at Irvine like some sort of idiot. And he had no doubt that when he saw the picture he would throw a fit, but it would be later. In that moment, standing there on stage, he didn't care.

His smile widened as they played their next song, and then another and another until he wasn't focused on anything aside from the music pouring between them all and his periodic glances across the crowd. He had taken Tomo's advice, had done something about it, and for once, he felt better.

After the concert, they all crashed in a couple of cadet rooms; Trabia was like Balamb in that cadets shared a kitchenette and full SeeDs had private quarters. Tomo and Oren volunteered to share one pair of rooms, and Irvine and Zell took the other. Selphie cheerfully kissed everyone on the forehead and waved as she walked off, winking at Oren. The doors shut, and for a moment, Zell didn't think he could breathe as he looked up at Irvine.

Irvine didn't look back at him. Instead, he took his hat off, pulled the band from his hair, and combed his fingers through it before he headed to the left door off of the kitchenette. Zell, taking his cues from the cowboy, went through his bag until he found the make-up removal wipes that Tomo had provided him with. They each worked through their own nightly ritual in their own area of the borrowed room, and just as Zell had brushed out his own hair— no gel when he was on stage; Tomo's orders— there was a faint knock on his door.

"Yeah? It's open." He looked up and Irvine pushed the door open slowly, although he didn't come in. Zell swallowed. He'd been the one to start it this evening; he couldn't push Irvine away this time and pretend that he hadn't realized what was going to happen. He smiled, and if it was a little shakier than he wanted, he didn't let himself think about it. "You can come in, you know."

Irvine still didn't move, and Zell pushed himself off of the bed. After another minute of silence, of Irvine looking at him so intently, as though he could figure Zell out with that stare alone, Zell crossed the small room. He started to reach out, stopped himself, and then went ahead with the motion.

Irvine caught his hands before he could touch. "What are you doing, Zell?" There was a strange tone behind Irvine's voice, something that made Zell feel more than just a little defensive, but Irvine didn't give him a chance to respond right away. "You hide behind not being a member of this band, of being here because you were _hired_, and then you go and do something like that?"

Zell bit his lip. He wasn't smooth at this sort of thing; didn't have the practice with handling anything so intimate that Irvine had. He looked up, and he hesitated briefly before he said, "I want this." It made his stomach turn nervously, but it was good, the excited sort of churn like when he'd found out he'd been accepted into Garden. "I..." He stopped, uncertain of what exactly he wanted to say.

Another minute of silence, and then Irvine leaned forward and kissed him. Zell kissed back with all the enthusiasm he could, trying to explain what he could with _that_ instead of with words that weren't cooperating, wouldn't come to his head the way they did to everyone else.

When Irvine pulled back that time, he offered Zell a faint smile. "Not tonight," he said lowly, and Zell looked up at him sharply.

"But—"

"Not _here_," Irvine clarified. "When we get back to the train car."

Something about that promise made Zell shiver.


End file.
